


A Slow Hand, an Easy Touch

by certs_up



Category: Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann
Genre: Masturbation, Other, Sexual Content, Surreptitious masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-17
Updated: 2009-08-17
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1254982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/certs_up/pseuds/certs_up
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Military service under Lordgenome means never being able to admit that you have <i>urges,</i> so Viral furtively masturbates. Response to a prompt on the Gurren Lagann kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Slow Hand, an Easy Touch

Hard. Oh, by the stars, it was so _hard._

His penis was too, but that was not what made sweat stand out on his skin and his breathing grow quick as he lay half on his side and half on his stomach, one knee pulled up for an extra measure of comfort ... and concealment. The blanket was scarcely heavier than the top sheet it covered, which was fine if he wanted only to sleep. But he had to admit it: sleep wasn't going to come unless he could first.

He forced his eyes to fall shut; just shut, as if he were indeed trying to sleep. There was nothing here that he wanted to see anyway. The room's sole illumination came from a few red LED indicators on the monitoring equipment—handy if he needed to take a leak before it was time for lights on in the morning, but now only a reminder of how his life constrained him as much as his clothing. His pants had been insufferably tight these past few days, and his loose-fitting pajamas really weren't much better. At least with a little shifting he could touch himself and make it look as if he were just finding a more comfortable position ... oh, and he was, he was! Even touching was such a comfort now. He didn't dare do much more, either. His movements had to remain slow, ditto his breathing.

This wasn't how Viral liked or wanted to do things. In a woman, in a man, in his hand—Viral's dick had no concept of taking it slow. It wanted to rub hard and be ground into things, and now its pulse seemed a silent repetition of _want more, want more._ Viral did too; he wished he dared oblige. But he'd gotten fond of his place in Lordgenome's organization, and if that meant often acting more like a machine than a beastman, if it meant conscientiously going through certain motions....

Viral never let his motion stop. It was slow, it was subtle—and now that he was getting used to even the small degree of freedom that being under the covers allowed, it was deliciously frustrating. He couldn't run his hand the whole length of his shaft but had to settle for one part, another, another—around the base, then along the length, then another bit, then another, and then finally show a little love to the head. More movement than that—more movement than the most gradual change of focus from one part to the next—and one of those monitor lights could shift from its lazy pulsation to a fast blink. But by that time it would be too late.

Just knowing was reminder enough; he didn't need evidence from his eyes, and he kept them closed. He thought of a beautiful birdwoman he'd seen that day, and how he'd like to sink his full length, the full length he couldn't properly attend to, right into her. He thought of General Cytomander's ass, how tightly it would hold him and how his tip would rub against the most subtle resistance inside. He licked his lips reflexively, then clamped them shut; even that might give him away. So instead he thought of Cytomander's lips and how they might take him in, as his own cupped hand did; how that tongue might swirl about his head, as one fingertip did now; how lip-covered teeth might slide, oh so slowly, up and down his shaft, like his cautious grasp; how that paler, finer hand might nestle in that bush of hair, discovering, encircling, embracing, massaging. And he knew that even if Cytomander moved as slowly as he was now forced to, it would be so good, so _good._ Even now it was so good, between his own touch, however slow and cautious, and the visions his closed eyes could entertain.

Maybe he should stop. Maybe this was enough. Maybe ... maybe if Cytomander ever saw his dick, he'd feel ... he'd feel him up, like this, even slowly. Maybe the general would rather take him from behind ... yes, that would be a more fitting fate for a subordinate, after all. It would be such an honor if the general deigned to pleasure himself, to pleasure them both that way, especially if one of those beautiful hands reached around, joined his own, even in slow motion as he was doing now. Another hand, even slowly—even gradually like this—would feel so good—yes—would feel—would feel—

He came suddenly, in sharp and shocking distinction to the slow movements he had worked so hard, so _hard_ to maintain. At least he held his body still through that maelstrom, all the more intense for having been so hard won. At least when he finally opened his eyes, all was calm and dark, the indicators continuing their normal leisurely bright-dim bright-dim pulse.

At least he was less likely to be punished for evidence of a wet dream.

**Author's Note:**

> _Original prompt:_
> 
> The life of a soldier working for the Spiral King is a hard one, everything is regulated and taken note of, every room and hall has hidden speakers and cameras lining it, and every movement is accounted for and recorded.
> 
> This level of surveillance extends to every individual, each room is wired and every single member of personnel is heavily observed, and shall be severely reprimanded for any disobedience.
> 
> And.. poor Viral is just so frustrated and horny.
> 
> Shy, awkward, restrained masturbation under the sheets. Like he's never done it before, and it just feels so good that he can't help it.


End file.
